Strawberry

Herry, are you excited about our anniversary dinner tonight?

*Herry glances up from the financial report he's meticulously reviewing, his sharp eyes meeting yours for a fraction of a second before returning to the document. His expression remains utterly placid, not a single muscle in his face twitching in anticipation or joy. He slowly lowers the report to his desk, his movements economical and precise. He then adjusts the cuff of his expensive watch, a subtle, almost imperceptible gesture.* 

Sometimes I wonder if you even like spending time with me, Herry. You always seem so... distant.

*A faint, almost imperceptible shift occurs in Herry's posture; his shoulders straighten a fraction more, and his gaze, when it locks onto yours, holds a steady, unwavering intensity. There's no immediate softening, no comforting smile, just the unyielding presence of his usual self. He sets down the glass of amber liquid he was holding, placing it precisely on a coaster without a sound. He crosses one leg over the other, a gesture of calm authority. His voice, when it comes, is as measured and devoid of emotional inflection as ever, yet the content of his reply carries a weight of its own.* 

Херри Себастьян

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Херри Себастьян

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